


Honest Consolation

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: Draco's had too much to drink. Harry's conflicted.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	Honest Consolation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

The sullen misery which had marred Malfoy’s pale features for so long was currently replaced by a lopsided smile of giddy glee. Draco sat alone at the edge of a small, round table in the corner of the room, surrounded by a collection of various shaped bottles strewn over the polished surface. 

Lingering by the bar, Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised, not today. But still, the reality of Malfoy drinking himself into a stupor while observed by a few of Harry’s clearly mocking friends was causing a small bubble of anger to develop. Rounding on the nearest one, he asked, “Ron… what is he _doing_?”

Ron replied with a shrug which was clearly meant to absolve him of all responsibility in this matter. “I think he’s trying to use a bottle as a telescope at the moment. But we’re all just waiting to see if he decides to make a pass at someone.”

The mirth scraped on Harry's nerves, but as the day's events where not yet public knowledge, he merely gritted his teeth. “So, you've all just stood back and let him get this drunk?”

“Well, why not? We’re not his minders. And just in case you were wondering, the smart money’s on you to receive a drunken lunge fairly soon.” 

“Me? What makes you think that?”

“Mostly because he keeps asking where you are. Why you're not here. When you're getting here. If we think you still hate him… that sort of thing.” Ron’s smirk was entirely too amused, as were the matching grins displayed on his smattering of other acquaintances leaning on the bar. “Best thing you ever did, breaking up with Malfoy. But I don’t think he agrees.”

Considering the implications of Ron’s last statement, the plan to spend a quiet night in this establishment didn’t sound either very likely or tempting anymore. “Then maybe I should leave.”

A swift smack to his shoulder indicated a differing opinion. “Aw, go and say ‘hi’! Think of the years of taunting material we could gain from this!”

“All the same, I think I’ll go.”

To Ron’s evident disappointment, Harry began his retreat. He’d managed to make it exactly two steps from the exit before something suddenly tugged at the back of his collar, halting his progress.

Harry’s hand instinctively found the wand in his pocket, gripping it tightly before he realised what was causing the delay. Staring straight ahead, he inhaled an easily identifiable scent intermingled with whisky. “Draco. Why’re you fiddling with my collar?”

His clumsy assailant purred in against Harry’s neck, soft breath wafting the tiny hairs. “Just checking your label, ‘cos I’m sure you must’ve been ‘made in heaven,’” Harry’s skin gave a shiver at the return of a sensation which it had never really wanted to be rid of.

“Does it say ‘gropers will have the offending limbs permanently removed’?” he snapped over his shoulder, “’cos if not, then it should.”

Although his collar was hastily smoothed back into place, Draco’s hands didn’t retreat. “Don’t be testy…” 

“Testy?”

“Yeah. S’not good.”

Shaking Draco off, Harry turned. A loose, slightly vacant smile curled at him. “You're pissed.”

“So?”

“You're gonna despise yourself in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll have a thumping hangover and remember that you hate me.”

Draco’s blond eyebrows drew together in concentration. “Nope. I… don’t think so, anyway.”

“It’s fine, Draco. You just forgot that for a while.”

The frown blossomed into an almost bashful grin as Draco bobbed dangerously back on his heels. “Always loved you, really. You're kind of annoying, but… yeah.”

Dismayed that it had required an over abundance of alcohol to eventually draw out those words, Harry reached a steadying hand out to rest in the dip of a swaying spine before sense quickly returned and he withdrew his fingers to fall by his side. It was too late for any of this.

“You look like shit.” Admittedly not a mature statement, but it helped to ground him. After all, he was hardly concerned about protecting this man’s delicate feelings.

“I always look wonderful,” Draco contradicted, blowing strands of slightly tangled hair from his forehead. 

“Even perfectly immaculate blonds have their off-days.”

Draco leaned in for a whisper of familiarity. Although he couldn’t deduce the logic, Harry didn’t move away. “You're gonna come with me.”

“Really, why’s that?”

“Didn't anyone tell you that you wanted to sleep with me?”

“They failed to mention that.” 

“Don't worry, I'll keep you up to date. I got a room upstairs ‘n everything.”

“I think I’ll leave you to enjoy your room in peace.”

“No, gotta come with me.”

“Why?”

Teeth nibbled their way down the side of Harry’s neck, causing an involuntary shudder. “What d’you think? Sex, Potter. Hot, writhing, fucking sex.”

Thinking that the offer somewhat demeaned the previous declaration of love, Harry enquired, “With you?”

“Yeah.”

“Appealing though that sounds, I don’t think I’ll bother. Thanks, anyway.”

“So it does sound appealing?”

“No.”

“But, you just said…”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“ _Ohhh_ , sarcasm…” mulled Draco, tottering by the front of Harry’s hip. The occasional bumping of supple curves wasn’t helping to dampen down his body’s memories. “Right. Didn’t get that. So, do you wanna top?”

Stifling down an unbidden chuckle, Harry fought to maintain a stern expression. “Maybe you should just go home.”

Harry cursed himself for his lack of tact as the smile fell. “Home?” Draco blinked. “The building’s still there, but it isn’t home.” The grin soon restored as Draco leaned nearer, bumping their chests together. “Pardon me,” he breathed, too close to Harry’s open mouth as his arms crept around to claim a pair of buttocks, “is this seat taken?”

“Yes!” Harry spluttered, surprised at how difficult it was proving to be to remove this inebriated man’s clutch. But then again, that task had always been a challenge.

A suddenly indignant glare shone back at him. “By who?”

“No-one!” Squirming against all those defined angles was only serving to fluster Harry. “I mean… get your bloody hands off my arse, Malfoy.”

“I think you still like them there.”

Harry’s groin was far too close to Draco’s to hide what was about to become a plainly obvious lie. “No, I _don’t_! I’m not ruddy interested!”

“Of course you are,” Malfoy deadpanned, stepping away and tugging Harry’s wrist with enough force to dislodge his rigid pose and pitching him forward. “C’mon, you won’t need to do anything, really. Just lie back and I’ll sit on your cock ‘n ride you like a pony.”

A startling visual popped into Harry’s head and spurred his feet on a few paces, before he dug his heels in and reclaimed his hand with a jerk.

Draco turned, huge eyes sparkling brightly. “Don’t you want to fuck?” 

“I don’t think that sex is what you need right now, Draco.”

“Oh… whatcha think, then?”

“More like a hangover potion and a quiet, darkened room.”

“Well… I can find a dark’ned room for us and then we’ll just see what happens from there.”

Harry steered a pliable Malfoy towards a nearby vacant booth, wishing that his acquaintances would stop cackling long enough to offer some assistance. “Draco, sit down.” 

Digits curled into his stomach, pulling his waistband towards the cushion and by default, Harry. “Sit down _with_ me.” 

Flopping down with a sigh, he sat rigidly and tried to pretend that the man moulding himself to his side wasn’t affecting him. When a hand snuck out to rest on his inner thigh, he intended to move it promptly and indignantly. Pretty soon, anyway. This was why he’d been avoiding Draco for so long, why he should never, _ever_ be in this close proximity to him.

He needed to stand up. Should simply walk away and not glance back. This encounter wasn’t likely to lead anywhere good. It wasn’t wise to remain seated with this man, these memories. He didn’t care what happened to Draco. Their relationship could’ve been labelled ‘eventful’ at best, or ‘disastrous’ at worse and the climax of their time together had been marked by an accusation by Harry, one which hadn’t been refuted by the accused.

When a female hand from above nudged his shoulder. Harry wondered how long he’d sat there with a warm cheek resting on his shoulder and quiet, steady snores vibrating against his neck. 

“Harry, I think you should take him up to his room.”

That seemed every bit as bad an idea as staying here this long. “Why don’t _you_ take him?”

Hermione let an assessing gaze run down Draco’s body before replying, “Tempting. But I don’t think that I’m his type.”

“Funny.”

“All you need to do is put him to bed and then come back down.”

“Like a child. You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. Now, off you go,” she urged. At Harry’s lack of compliance, she added, “You're the only one he’ll go with without creating a scene, you know that. He needs to sleep this off.”

“Hermione, send anyone you like up there to babysit him… just, not me.”

“I know that he hurt you, but -”

Harry was anxious not to follow this line of conversation. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“It hasn’t been _that_ long.”

“Seems like it. I don’t care about him anymore.”

“And that’s why you're still sitting here? Why you haven’t shoved him into a heap on the floor and stomped off? Because you don’t care?”

Hermione knew him too well. It was a serious disadvantage sometimes. Harry shifted in his seat, shucking the head from its resting place.

A confused gaze squinted up at him as he stood. “Come on.”

“We’re leaving?” yawned Draco, hazily surveying his surroundings.

“Yes.”

“Together?”

“Apparently,” Harry huffed, pointedly ignoring the looks of satisfaction beaming from his nearby friends as he tugged Draco from the bench.

But the excitement radiating from the man he was steering from the room was harder to ignore. Although not as difficult as the bloom of hope spreading within his own chest.

***

After a little grappling, a lot of groping and some downright insisting, he’d eventually succeeded in depositing Draco between the sheets without also being dragged onto them. Despite many enthusiastic attempts, Harry had managed keep at least his own clothes safely intact, but all he'd been able to persuade his ward to wear to bed was a pair of black briefs. It had been difficult not to notice that his ex lover hadn’t lost any of his fine physical attributes, but Harry was determined not to ponder on that fact.

“Come and lie down,” pleaded Draco, yet again. 

“Malfoy, I’m _not_ getting in there. Just go to sleep. I’m going back downstairs.”

Hugging a pillow tightly to his form, Draco scowled. “Stop calling me Malfoy. Every time you say it, you get that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“Like you think I’m my father.”

“No, I don’t think that. I know exactly who you are. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to discover that.”

“They took his soul today, you know. Sucked it out. And it was _my_ fault.” Draco emitted something akin to a sob into the pillow and Harry wanted to fold this man up in his arms, perhaps mutter words of comforting lies. But frightened that it would be the truth, he didn’t move. “I'd never seen him looked scared before.” 

“I saw.”

Glistening grey irises peered over the cotton, not quite focused. “You did? Oh, of course. You were there too.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have told them… all the things he did.”

That sullen misery was beginning to settle on Draco's face once more. Harry wished that he could take it away, smooth out the etched lines, but if anything had ever been that easy then neither of them would be where they were now. “If you hadn’t, then I would’ve.” 

“I know. But what I did to you was worse, wasn’t it?”

“Worse than murder? No.”

“But to you, it was. Harry… I’m sorry.”

Harry had heard all the apologies, they had long since become redundant. “I know. You mentioned before.”

“You're not gonna stay, are you?”

“Is there are reason why I should?” he asked, moving towards the door.

“No… I suppose not. I hoped there would be… but you’ll never forgive me, will you?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Harry?”

He paused, the handle ready to turn. “What?”

“Do you… love me?” Draco murmured, burrowing further down into the cotton and dragging Harry’s heart with him. 

“Yes,” he sighed, too tired to deny it. 

“Harry, stay…”

“Shh, go to sleep,” he whispered, watching Draco’s eyelids finally droop, his breaths deepen. Harry's feet led him closer to the edge, just to look again, and remember. It would be so simple to lie there. He could rest without either good reason or thought of the future - simply offer a tiny part of himself in honest consolation and perhaps gain even a sliver of what he’d missed. Even if he might not be able to trust in it.

Aware of the folly, but sweeping all concerns aside, Harry reached for the hem of the sheet.


End file.
